Mim Loves You, Harry
by Minervaismyhero
Summary: McGonagall has been tasked with watching over number four privet drive but has been expresidely forbidden from interfering. But she'll throw herself into the loch before the boy who survived THE KILLING CURSE, dies by an infection from a diaper rash.
1. Chapter 1

Minerva McGonagall was a very cool headed woman. For over thirty years she had been a teacher; raising children was her passion. Her good friend, boss, and mentor Albus Dumbledore was currently her least favorite person.

That was including Tom Riddle. Now Riddle was a bright boys. He had many O's in his OWLs (transfigurations included thank you very much). He was charismatic and funny, but only when he wanted to be. Tom could be very shy, maybe even a bit brooding. The Slytherin was going to be great; everyone that he came in contact with could feel that.

Unfortunately he did become great. He was known as the greatest dark wizard since Grindelwald. He had unleashed unspeakable horrid on muggleborns, sympathizers, and your standard muggleborn - who had no concept of the weapons used against them - alike. Nearly a dozen Order members and good friends of hers have died in the last ten years.

Ten months ago two young, bright (if troublesome), children of hers (well students anyway) were viciously slain. Riddle walked up to thier two bedroom home in Godric's Hollow. They hadn't owned the place a year before Lily fell pregnant. She was so excited she threw a large party inviting half of Hogwarts faculty and many more students old and current. Minerva had known Lily Evans since she was just eleven; ten years of the young Gryffindor's life.

Thirteen months after little Harry James was born he was an orphan. Late Hallow's eve in Godric's Hallow. Her favorite student (well teachers never have favorites) was murdered. Her husband died holding that madman back but to no avail. Lily had died shielding her one year old's crib. Tom still shot a killing curse at a defenceless child.

For reasons no one will likely ever understand Harry survived. As soon as word got back to the order Dumbledore swept up the toddler and took him to his Godfather's. Unfortunately less than two weeks after his best friends' murders he was taken to Azkaban. No one would have guessed it. Sirius "padfoot" Black betray his nearly life long friend.

This leaves the child totally orphaned. McGonagall had to admit originally putting him with his only surviving family (a muggleborn aunt) made enough sense. In the muggleborn world it it would be harder for him to be tracked down, his cousin was his age, and they seemed like normal enough people.

That all changed when hary turned two. He made his uncle's brief case vanish, the telly turned on and off whenever he had a tantrum, and Dudley had somehow become glued to the floor during tag more than once. Soon enough his aunt put two and two together. This boy was one of them.

By two and a half barely more than a year after he moved in Harry had his diaper changed less and less frequently. He rarely got held if at all. His aunt would belittle him for throwing a tantrum instead of trying to find its cause.

This is why her oldest friend is her least favorite person. Albus insisted that Harry needed to stay here but if he were to stay Minerva was going to be damn sure the boy got his diaper changed.

After three months of this getting progressively worse Minerva couldn't take it anymore. She found herself in Little Hangleton every other day after classes and patrols were done. She was there most of the day every single Saturday, sometimes into Sunday teas.

Once or twice a week she would slip into the perfect little house, creeping over a perfect little lawn, through a not so perfect second story window. She could use disillusionment charms but morphing was just so much easier. Her old knees barely kept up with the walk from the apparation point to number four. Her feline form was much more resilient.

That's what landed her in an English oak at one am being groomed by a squirrel. Usually she would swat the rodent down to the grass but she was a bit preoccupied with finding the sweet spot on the fourth pane of Harry's room window.

"Mim" piped the thin boy as the brown tabby sprung into a tall imposing woman.

"Now Harry I'm not your mum I'm Minerva. Min-ER-va" cooed the pretty middle aged woman.

Truthfully she thought of herself as his mother. Of course she knew that could be a problem. She could never take the boy away from this place, at least not until he was older. She had already seen so much death and destruction in her life. A war, this boy's parents, nearly a dozen miscarriages, and now her husband was slowly deteriorating in front of her eyes. The muggles had a form of the disease that was much quicker called ALS. She had seen enough if her children dead. By Merlin she would never forgive herself if this boy who survived _the killing curse_ was to die of starvation or a flu due to these imbeciles.

"Min loves you Harry," cooed the witch scuffing at the boy's chest.

He giggled and clung to the scott's red cloak. She placed a light pucker on the scar marring the tot's face.

"Shhh now Harry, we don't need your uncle waking up," the child shuddered at the thought.

The witch stroked his hair and whispered softly, "he can't get to you while I'm here; you will be okay."

The thought had occurred to her many times over the years as slips happened that why didn't she just apparate into his home (if you can call it that)?

The simple answer was the crack that happens to even the most experienced apparators from time to time. The last thing Minerva needed was three very angry muggles on her hand not to mention the possible muggle aurors. The second reason was it was apparent that these muggles hated wizards. Although she could easily out fight any of them wandless she did not want to anger them should Harry have to be left there.

And he did need to stay there, at least if Dumbledore's suspensions were to be proven correct - which if she was being honest with herself he usually was. Somehow the bright, spitfirey, redhead's sacrifice rebounded on Voldemort and created an extra layer of protection around the boy, and he needed blood family to make the blood bond stronger. Minerva had to admit that it seemed ridiculous. Surly Lily Potter wasn't the first mother to sacrifice herself to an avada for her child.

Dumbledore knows best.

She had lost count of the number of times she repeated that mantra. It became unbearable once the boy turned seven. Upon his cousins eighth birthday his parents decided he was old enough (and had enough things) for a second room. Swiftly her little boy who had a strange fascination for drawing tabby cats was shoved into a room barely big enough for him to lay on the floor.

This was her baby boy. She felt a strong attachment to him, she was even as bold as to say she raised him. Sure she was only there for a third of his life at best, and maybe she did have to lie to him a lot to keep him staying with the muggles, but this was the closest she ever had to a son.

It took everything in her to quell the maternal voice telling her to take her child and run every time he told her about his week. But where would they go? He was the most famous wizard in the world, and she lived and worked for someone who insisted Harry stay in this volatile place. She could go to the muggle world but then she would have to leave her frail black mess of hair alone or with a stranger most of the day.

Just three more years. She now had a calendar going for him. Every day she would count back to how long before September 1st, 1991 (1,165 days left). Every week she heard anything negative (nearly every week) she would burn a photograph, of her _beloved_ friend.

Harry needed new glasses every nine months now. Puberty was coming. The old witch wondered if he would be a great seeker like his father, a quieter soul amongst his peers like his mother, quick witted and kind, or jovial with an ear for mischief. She had seen bits and pieces of both of his parents in thier years together.

She hopped he would bulk out a bit once puberty came and he ate three round meals a day at Hogwarts. He was almost all skin and bones as it was. He would always say he's eating but Minerva had seen enough kids to know what even the naturally wry child should weigh. Harry James was much too small for his age. Over 135 cm and barely three stones. His cousin on the other hand was only one and a quarter meters tall and well over five stones. Eight years old and never rode a broom (or a bike for that matter). Boy can't swim, but he can sweep a floor.

How her boy always seemed bright eyed and bushy tailed when she came around twice a week, astounded Minnie. They worked him like a dog, barely fed him, and made him cry more nights than not.

Her mo chirdhe deserved better than this. Merlin even Riddle deserves better than what the Dursley are doing to thier own flesh and blood.

 _ **But.**_

 _ **Dumbledore.**_

 _ **Knows.**_

 _ **Best.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey sorry about the time between updates. Holidays are a mess. Please review this is the first fic I've written in a long time. And as much as I would love to be filthy rich, I did not create Harry Potter and I did not write multiple best sellers so I make no money off this no do I own any rights to the world.**

"How was your week lad?"

"Not as bad this week as it was when Piers was here."

"What happened last week? I didn't get out and I'm sorry."

There was a pause as the shy child wrung his hands together. The old witch attempts to meet his eyes with a warm reassuring smile.

"Well Dudley and Piers chased me through the neighborhood," started the Raven haired child staring at the dusty floor of his living quarters.

His protector nods for him to continue.

"He ran after me with a stick. Not a switch but a good two an a half centimeter wide branch. I can run faster than Dudley but not Piers," he looks away seemingly ashamed of his tale.

The Scot slowly extended an arm to touch his shoulder. He flinched back smacking the blade into the wall with a thud.

"Boy you best not be making ruckus!" Shouted his plump uncle.

They both look around in alarm. The standard silencing spell absent. The pair sit silently in the broom cupboard for a few beats. As no more sound came from the rest of the house, Minerva applied the charm and continued, mentally berating herself for the carelessness.

They gave each other a reassuring hand squeeze. Crisis seemingly adverted for the night.

"Mo barra! What happened to your hand," a mildly harsh tone came over the witch. She looked out for blood for a split second feeling deep narrow long scratches across her boy's palm.

The child hung his head in shame. Long dark locks concealing the oddly shaped scar. The woman cupped his face bringing his eyes to hers. They were so full of warmth and reassurance; the boy took a deep breath and continued his yarn.

"Piers caught up to me under the bridge off Stewart street. He swung the branch at me and it connected with my ankle. Thankfully not broken but I've limped for a couple days. I fell and he swung again I threw my hand up and managed to stop him from clubbing me in the stomach," he finished holding his palm out for the witch to examine.

"Sorry to interrupt lad but can I see yer foot?"

He complied contorting himself in the tiny space so see could see it.

"That's a bit swollen, prolly ought ta fix tha," she drew a long thin polished bit of dark wood out of her cloak.

The child looked on in amazement as she sheathed the wood inside her palm and pointed it at his sprained limb.

"Now this will hurt a fair bit me wean," she looked up into his wary eyes, "but only for a split second. Then ye'll be right as rain."

She took an audible breath in the tiny space, "epskey."

A small yelp escaped the child's lips. He took a hand to his now warm and virtually pain free ankle.

"How do you do that mim?"

"Magic," she replied with a shrug as calm as if she had told him she bought that.

He just smiles and shakes his head lightly, "you're funny."

"Now me Barra don't ya dare let them coorse you and beat ya up like that. Tell me, let me know what's goin' on every time. I promise no serious injury will come ta ya. We've got a few years to go still but yer tough and yer more special than you could possibly understand," she punctuated her pep talk with a kiss to the oddly shaped cut across his head.

He stood and hugged his only friend in this cruel world. She squeezed him tight, ruffled his hair, and stepped out of the small room. She took the silencing spell down and immediately disappeared in a swirl or brown and marron. Soon stood a tabby with strange markings around her eyes and a marron collar. The cat trotted casually across the hall into the sleeping cousin's room and through a small pane in the glass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry about the late update and the short chapter. Life kind of got away from me recently. Thank you to all of the followers it helps me remember to keep writing (even if I'm terribly slow at if for a while).**

"Albus how can you just leave him there!? They beat him and the feed him half of what most growing boys need. HE GOT A BROKEN ANKLE FROM HIS COUSIN!

"Children will be children Minerva," the headmaster said plainly.

The witch let out an angry huff, "children do **not** take a club to thier friend's ribcage! They are ten this should not be happening."

"He stays with his aunt and that is final."

"THEY BARELY FEED HIM, THEY WORK HIM TO THE BONE!" The witch shouted, her voice on the verge of shrill.

"This conversation is over Minerva," the man with half moon spectaculs said as he walked into his bed chambers and locked the door.

"UMPH you are infuriating!" the witch shouted trying to mask the panicked tears threatening to spill.

Her boy has ten months, two weeks, and three days before September first. Less than a year before she can get him to safety once and for all. She already misses the lad.


	4. Chapter 4

**thank you to the few who have reviewed it pushed me to get this one out quicker. I hope I did MM's tragic love life justice here.**

 **Disclaimer: as much as I would love to have a best selling novel or ten unfortunately I did not write Harry Potter nor do I make any money by trying to save baby Harry.**

Two months and ten days until her boy is reintroduced into the world he was so violently expelled from. Seventy two days until he gets his first wand. Nine weeks until he _finally_ comes home.

This has been the longest decade of her life. She has she been training the next generation, keeping number twelve in semi standing order (despite having to talk with that dreadful elf). Dealing with the trauma of not one but three former gryffindors dying violent deaths, a fourth in prison (unjustly but she can't really prove that), and two exceptional aurors and past lion's tortured to insanity. Then watching poor little Harry, her barra, withstand abuse even the Black sheep would not envy. And to top it all off five years ago her husband, her best friend, a man who loved her unconditionally died.

Working for the DMLE seemed like the perfect job. Top marks guarenteed her any ministry job she wanted. It was a nice job for a couple years. After all she met her spouse there. But after a unfortunate spell damaged Elphinstone's brain she just couldn't help but want a less dangerous life. Unfortunately he passed not too long after the injury; rapid deterioration, memory loss, motor function failures, it broke her heart to watch it.

But nothing broke her heart more than being forced to watch this bright, funny, young lad with perfect parents in a perfect neighborhood with perfectly emerald green eyes be made an orphan. He no longer tried in school (well the muggle ones), he was funny but instead of being his godfather's snark it was more of a dismissive dark humor. He had no parents and the psuedo set were almost as imperfect for this child as could be. His eyes still green but they didn't shine like a jewel as they had as a newborn, they were the same color as his mother but they did not hold curiosity and humor. Her heart breaks a little more everyday she has abandoned her barra with those cruel people.

 _She would bring him a few days' worth of food from the head table (under a stasis charm), since he was eight and they saw eachother consistently. He no longer starved (still far too thin for his age of you asked her)._

 _He had no one to talk to while she was away but owls were too risky. They tried floo calls but he singed the rug one time. Vernon made him scrub it with his tooth brush and then took a switch to his back so bad it welted for a couple days. If you look carefully you can still see a faint scar across his left shoulder blade._

 _Minerva tried walking away with him. She kidnapped him and took the tyke to the house she and Elphinstone shared between missions and weekends. She was excited to have warmth back in her old house. The bright eyed, inquisitive five year old was so thrilled to get away from number four he spent the whole night running circles around the house._

 _But (the ever omnipotent) **Dumbledore. knows. Best.**_

 _But of course all good things must come to an end in her life: Dougal, Elphinstone, the four pregnancies they had. All she ever wanted was a child and now_ Albus was taking that away from her _again_.

The firm woman undid her hair bun, the pressure too much for the growing head ache. She could feel the tears building. She hadn't really cried since Elphinstone. She hated crying. Every facet of the act made her feel weak and vulnerable. She sludged towards her queen sized downy mattress adorned in Gryffindor red. She carefully peeled the low heels off.

She had cried just five times in her adult life.

When Dougal McGregor made her choose between her love for him and her magic, when she lost Anna at 11 weeks, when Elphinstone proposed the first time, when McGregor died, her second miscarriage this time with her husband, when the healers said the El's damage was perminant and likely will get worse, when he left her all alone out here.

The third and forth miscarriages were numb, no pain. The death of Lily hurt but tears are not something she could bring about. Harry being left in that house is something she ached on constantly. But now she can't stop them. The pressure in her head is blinding.

Two months and ten days until she no longer has to worry every minute of everyday if he will be alive the next time she sees him. Seventy two days until she can hold him every time he calls out in the middle of the night. Nine weeks until **her** little boy _finally_ comes home.

She fell back onto the bed and wept for the bright eyed boy with perfect parents.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to the 25+ followers. I wasn't expecting this story to be liked this much. I hope the updates are coming consistently enough for you guys. Im open to scene suggestions.**

The aging witch strode into the headmaster's office, head held high, shoulders back, ready for what is sure to be a long fight.

She stepped into the expansive room decorated in regal hues of purple and gold. Undertones by soft nuterals and stone floors. She walked the length of the intricate floor runner nearly a dozen times before her _friend_ appeared.

"Hello Minerva," he greeted, "What do I owe this pleasure to?"

"Harry turned eleven this summer. It's three weeks before the start of term. I would like to accompany him to diagon alley."

"Minerva," a pause.

"Albus," she countered with a tilt of the head.

He sighed, "you are far too attached to the boy."

"Well someone aught to be," the witch huffed quietly.

"Hagrid will fetch the boy."

"You can't even use his name regularly, you are far too detached. He is a child, a beaten, scared child," her voice is tetering on shrill; desperate.

"He can't use a wand. What happens if someone tries to attack him? What if his aunt tries to stop us? They've already ignored four hundred and twenty two letters."

"You worry to much."

"He has been beaten for the last decade, he has been strung up a pole by his pants. He has seen terrible abuse! You. Don't. Care. AT **ALL**!"

"How dare you," he hissed.

"How can you just stand by as his /family/, and I use the word lightly, neglects him like that?" she said with effort, recomposing herself.

"Because that's where he needs to be," said the aging wizard defeated.

"Needs to be for what! Why in Merlin's name would a child need to be raised in such a state?" She begged finally relieved to be getting an answer from him after years.

"There are things you just don't know. Things only a few people on this Earth know."

"Then tell me! Please try, try for some justification Albus!"

"Riddle will be back and Harry will be instrumental in this war."

McGonagall took a deep breath, letting his words digest. Voldemort isn't gone. Lily and James' deaths were for nothing. He is using children to fight his war, at least, he's using her child.

Tears threatening the Scott's sky blue eyes. Her little boy, full of wit and humor is being manipulated to death. He's never going to be safe is he? She lets out a shudder trying to suppress a sob.

"I am going with him," began the professor eerily calm. "Nothing you can say will stop me. It's been seven years of this fight and I am bringing him home, with or without you."

"Minerva, this is out of line," the old man said in a matter of fact.

"So is using children to fight a war," she said over her shoulder as she shut the door.

Dumbledore knows **nothing.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm sorry this took almost a month to update. Please review and thank you to the 36 followers (that I am letting down with terrible update schedules). As always I do not own Harry Potter nor am I make revenue off this story.**

"I can' let ya do that Minerva."

"Why," she demanded.

"Dumbledore's orders," the half giant said casually despite being terrifies of the combative Gryffindor.

"I raise this boy! I was there when he cried himself to sleep. I was there when he got his first A in muggle school. **I want to bring him home** ," she cried growing more desperate with each sentence.

"Now professor, Dumbledore knows best."

She _hated_ that phrase. It had been used against her, against her chide, and by her too many times. Nothing can justify Harry feeling alone and scared all of his young life.

"I need to accompany him. Please Hagrid. Please let me take him away from that evil place. Please. I'm asking you as a friend don't make me ask as deputy headmaster," she scolded putting on her perfected teaching voice. That paired with her signature mother-is-disappointed-with-you scowl she was a force to be reckoned with.

The grounds keeper shifted uneasily. He had only been on the receiving end of the stern witch's wrath twice. Once in his first year when he had argued with her for most of an hour over why he should be allowed in the forbidden forest to study the creatures. And when he had snuck a rather large pet spider into the third year dorms. She had said owning a pet like that could be nothing but trouble. She was right. Perhaps, he couldn't help but think, perhaps she was right right now. . .

The deputy studied her ex-charge carefully as his shoulders slumped. Although she was a good occulems she didn't want to intrude. He needed to trust her right now. She _needed_ him to trust her enough to get her baby home. She steadied herself.

Hagrid paced slightly. She noticed him cringe after a minute then noticably slump. He threw himself into the chair across from him and proper his head upon his hand. The giant began to idly trace the grain of the ancient oak table.

More than a minute of pregnant silence accompanied the pair.

"You know I am a Dumbledore man through and through," began the groundskeeper.

She took a heavy breath.

"But I ten' ter air on the side of was best fir the chil'n," he began nervously.

The giant stood up quickly and grabbed the large pink umbrella from the corner. Minerva flinched slightly, as Hagrid began to pace thumbing the crooked end of his faux cane.

The witch took a calming breath before chancing a proposal again.

"Please. I've raised Harry, I've spent years trying to subtly convince his," she paused looking for a suitable work, "guardians, that he needed more love and care than he was being afforded.

Please Hagrid I need to see him home. I want to walk him into Ollivander's. I want to see the wonder in my boy's eyes when he sees Diagon alley.

"I want to see the moment her truly realizes he doesn't have to go back. Please Hagrid."

The deputy punctuated the end of her speech my throwing her head in her hands. Attempting to hide the worry in her face. She loathed looking weak, especially to her students current or otherwise.

"I'm sure Dumbledore 'ill kill meh fur this bu' I," he took a heavy breath and wiped sweat from his brow with his calloused palm.

"I guess yer can come with us. Dumbledore said I was ter do this. He never specifically said ter do it alone."

Mcgonagall launched herself at the grounds keeper. She sobbed and soaked the man's overcoat. She would be able to be apart of his homecoming. She could finally rest lining her barra was safe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry about the inconsistent posting. Please R &R and let me know where you would love to see this story go. I started this as a one shot (hence chapter 1 being 1600 words), I never expected it to be so popular. A sincere thank you to all who showed interest. I haven't written an HP fanfic in nearly five years. Again sorry for the sparatic postings**. ~Mimh

It is August 30th 1991. Harry James Potter is 11 years and 30 days old. He starts his first term at Hogwarts in 53 hours. There is a deputy headmistress dressed in cold weather cloaks despite it being summer. The woman is bubbling with nervous excitement.

Her locator spell on his hair told her that Harry was somewhere in the British Isles likely on an island. With the Scottish wind being nearly 25 kmph the isles were sure to be blustery as well. She was not excited about taking her broom above the rough waves. The witch grabbed her stick she's barely touched in ten years and headed for the cottage at the edge of the forest.

In no time at all the pair were hoisted over the Scottish moore by a flying muggle motorcycle. Her broom shrunk and nestled in her left pocket. The professor's wand grew hot in her hand, signaling that her barra was within a 100 meters.

"We are here Hagrid" she called over the winds.

"'Ere?"

"Aye, the wands don't lie," she stated as they began their descent.

As they broke the cloud cover a lone island appeared amid jagged rocks. Connected by a land bridge that vanished and reemerged with the roaring waves the island would certainly dissuade any muggle transportation. The distant storm crashed nearly in tandem with the waves.

Minerva had watched these dreadful people for nearly a decade. She was certain they came here to ward them off. Making Harry spend his birthday in a cramped shack; her blood temporary boiled. What could a simple muggle know about apparation? And she did mean simple. These muggles couldn't even remember to close Dudley's sandbox every night, despite numerous complaints about neighborhood cats.

The cart began it's decent onto the puny peninsula. Minerva's heart began to race. This is what she had waited ten years for.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry it took so long to update. It's been a hectic few months between working on moving and having a migraine for nearly four months now.

.-

Boom, BOOM! Went the flimsy wooden door between flashes of lightning.

"It's just debris ," called the oversized father unbelievably.

Boom, rapt, it came again.

"Tha-that sounds like knocking," noted the pudgy child.

"Impossible!" Bellowed Vernon.

"We're on an island for Pete's sake. But these kinds of people are relentless," mutter Petunia with mild spite and a touch of fear.

"Open up ya fat oaf," barked the grounds keeper, "You know that I know yet in ther'."

Minerva pulled out her want and pointed it at the door. A soft whisper and a twitch of her wrist made the door tick. She looked up at the imposing man with her callused palm on the rusted bar.

Hagrid shook his mane slightly and nodded towards the muggles.

"Let me in or I'm coming in!"

The two children in the hut shook visibly as the lightning cracked around them and the giant's pounding thundered through the room. Harry glanced at his cousin who for a second made genuine eye contact with him. The boys never really got along, but right now they had an odd kinship within thier terror.

"Five, Vernon open up!

"Four! I'm getting him one way or another."

Three rapid strikes of lightning accompany his threat.

"Three.

"Two. I ain't playin' yet game ya filthy muggle!

"Last chance."

A crack shook the shack as it hit the land bridge slowly resurfacing.

"Aberto," shouted the usually demure witch with more force than intended.

The door flew off it's hinges across the islet and into the sea. All occupants watched as it thrashed around the top of the waves and shattered after cresting over a meter. Petunia shuddered as images of her sibling flashed through her brain.

The hairy giant squats down to the eye level of the preteens.

"Ho'er'ya Harry!? Look alot like yer pop at th' age."

The spell that seemed to hold the room hostage for a time popped. The mother clenched at her heart; nearly weeping with relief. The pudgy child looked up at his father quizzically. But his parent was far too enwrapped in a dominance stare with the wizard to care. The frail black haired boy did what he did best: stood in the shadows observing but never interfering.

It wasn't until the seven foot tall bushy bearded man took a few steps towards that Harry saw her. His face lit up and he nearly slammed into the game keeper as he flung himself into McGonagall. His aunt threw out her hand trying to stop the boy from hurting himself. Although it wasn't that madman they were still of her kind.

"Mim! I knew you'd make it, you always make my birthday!"

"Course I did. You'll always be my boy, even if you're old enough to go to school," the normally resigned woman visibly swelled with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

"Old enough for school? I've been in school for six years Mim?"

"Yer headed to Hogwarts 'Arry."

"Hogwarts? I thought that was just a story."

"YOURE NOT GOING!" bellowed the pot bellied man.

"You are a foul man, and have no right to separate him from our world."

"Your world abandoned him at our door step ten years ago!"

"I came back, I always came back. But he was safer here; you both should understand that. I appreciate you trying but you have been nothing but violent to him his whole life."

"We fed him, we housed him, what has he ever done for us?"

"He's a child," barked Hagrid from the corner.

The two children just sat wide-eyed along the wall. Heads swiveling from one pair of adults to the other. Harry couldn't believe it, not only was there Mim making Vernon cower before her but this new imposing man was looking at him so fondly. He seemed to be simultaneously welcoming an old friend and trying to figure if he were here at all.

"Can we go home now?" whined the fat boy.

"Tha's a great idea come along Harry we're are taking you home."

The birthday boy stood up on wobbly knees; inching along the wall. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his bicep. His uncle was digging nails into his frail flesh. His mustache twitched with disgust at having to touch him.

"He stays."

Before she could stop him Minerva watched as Hagrid took out his battered umbrella, pointed it at the other boy and transfigured the boys backside into a curly, pink, fuzzy, tail.

Dudley let out a yelp and grabbed his buttocks.

"Good day," the professor's head said as it leaned into where the door stood an hour ago. The tail fiasco gave her just enough time to extract and position Harry into the sidecar.

The giant took his cue and left. Before long the grounds keeper, lighting marred child, and his cat with abnormal square markings were flying above the turbulent sea watching the storm to the east.


End file.
